What Happens in the Prosecutor's Office
by Strike To Incinerate
Summary: Stays In The Prosecutor's Office. [Lol, Angel StarrNeil Marshall.][Oneshot][Again, pregame.] Angel Starr learns that you shouldn't tease... especially Neil Marshall, even more so when he secretly adores you. But then again...


_Author's Note: Okay... so I'm sitting here, at my desk, practically in tears... because I saw some Angel/Jake fanart. Not just any fanart... but good fanart. Like, really well drawn fanart. And I'm thinking to myself, 'But... but Lana? Lana looooooves Jake! She does! They're just having a tiff... that's lasted two years... THEY'RE GONNA GET OVER IT AND MAKE COWBOY PROSECUTOR SUPER DETECTIVE BABIES THAT WILL CATCH ALL CRIMINALS, YOU KNOW!' So, instead of finishing ANOTHER Jake/Lana fanfiction... (TAUNT!) I have decided to write an Angel/Neil fanfiction. Because Neil gets no love and Angel gets far too much. Pregame, obviously. Oh, and another thing... just in case you were wondering..._

_ANYONE THAT EVER SUGGESTS THAT GANT AND LANA WERE HAVING ANYTHING OVER THAN BLACKMAILER/BLACKMAILED RELATIONS WILL BE SHOT. SURVIVALS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN. IF FOR SOME REASON, I MISS, YOU SHALL BE PELTED WITH ROCKS AND SET AFLAME. He's kind of old enough to be her grandfather... why, DeviantArt? Why do you mock my pairings so? Why must you plant images in my head that I do not wish to see, when I'm simply trying to FIND SOME LANA/JAKE SECKS-- I mean, fluff. I was not looking for naughty fanart._

_Anywho, enjoy the Angel/Neil nonsense. Random. I kinda like it._

_Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, I don't own Phoenix Wright, blah blah, Capcom, blah Angel/Neil..._

_--_

**What Happens in The Prosecutor's Office, Stays In The Prosecutor's Office.**

**An Angel Starr/Neil Marshall oneshot by Strike to Incinerate.**

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Angel Starr prided herself on not only being the famous 'Cough-Up Queen' of the LAPD, but also as somewhat of an expert on male psychology. According to Angel Starr, three things controlled the actions of men; hunger, the need to sleep, and sex. Her coworkers never did anything to disprove her theories. When Jake Marshall and Bruce Goodman got hungry during a hard shift exposing criminals, they had no qualms about sending Lana, their superior, and her younger sister, Ema, who was not even supposed to be there, out for sustenance, while Neil and Gant sat back and smirked. How often had Gant, Jake and Bruce camped out in their offices, something that was against normal policy? And a simple wink or flirtatious flip of her hand could cause a sudden spike of effort in the homicide and forensics departments.

Angel, being the beautiful, cunning, honey-haired detective that she was, knew how to use this to her advantage, especially the third rule. She didn't care if her fellow detectives laughed; how often had a boyfriend's 'connections' found a sudden lead in a case that seemed to be a pile of dead ends? Men were animals, but like all animals, they had their uses.

However, with all good theories, there is one flaw, one piece that doesn't fit the jigsaw puzzle. The irregularity to Angel's theory was named Neil Marshall. If Neil was hungry, he never said so. If he was tired, he didn't wrap up the case he was working on and crash on his couch. He grabbed a cup of coffee and kept going until she or Lana knocked on his door the next morning, pried the evidence from his hands, and force fed him bagels so he wouldn't waste away. And if Angel seduced him, for whatever reason, he wouldn't sway to her side just because... either he was so pure and just, or just so stubborn and prideful that he wouldn't let a woman get the better of him.

She was beginning to think that the new King of Prosecutors, the third of the Holy Trinity of Law Enforcement, was a monk. She would need 'scientific research', as Lana's adorable sister put it, to back it up. She had no problem with gathering some. Neil was kind of cute... He'd be fun to play with.

"Hey sheriff..." she began one day, leaning back against the desk casually. The fur collar of her clean, alabaster jacket tickled her throat, and her arms were folded over her chest, enhancing the view provided by the low cut, slinky black dress she wore beneath it. "Hand me that pen, will you?" she asked.

The pen of which she spoke was shiny and silver, laying right behind her. A soft grin graced her coral lips as she stood, shifting her hips against the hard edge. She expected him to lean in close, reaching around her, his arm brushing 'accidentally' against her waist. He would drink in her vanilla-magnolia cologne, smile, and fall under her spell. There was no man that could resist coughing his heart up to the Cough-Up Queen.

He didn't even glance up from the mountain of circumstancial evidence that the SL-9 case had accumulated. They'd been hot on the killer's trail for months, gathering leads, and using everything in their, that was, herself, Skye, Gant, Goodman and the Marshall brothers', power to dig up something good. She'd never felt so alive... maybe she wanted Neil to live a little, too. "There's one behind you," he told her.

She wasn't disappointed, but said in a sultry tone, "That isn't any way to treat a lady."

"You want a lovesick puppy? Look at my brother," he laughed.

Angel didn't bother to mention that Jake was about ready to pin Lana to her desk and do things that two detectives shouldn't be doing in the office, on the clock, but it was so obvious.

"I think I'd rather have one Marshall all to myself," she replied.

He shook his head, slicked-back mahogany locks swaying. "Sorry, Angel. Not interested in being a boy-toy. Not this week."

She put on a fake pout. When seduction doesn't work, become vulnerable. Men are protectors, she reminded herself. "But, sheriff... what about next week? There's one position open, and I'll hold it just for you."

He finally looked at her. His face was stern, serious. He was trying to catch a killer, and she was trying to catch another man in her web of seduction and false hope, to suck information, or whatever she wanted... he had no clue what she wanted from him, to be honest... no innuendo intended, of course. Angel's body wasn't just for show, it was a weapon, locked and loaded, and she had her eyes on her target. Why that target happened to be him... not the foggiest idea. Perhaps, he mused, she was practicing. "I don't think I meet the requirements for Yet-A-Fourth Understudy," he said sharply.

Oooh, fiesty. Since seduction and demurity weren't working, she would try being coy. Every man had a type, even monks like Neil Marshall. "But you certainly fit the bill for a dinner date," she said.

He wasn't amused or swayed. "What do you want, Angel?"

If all else fails, play hard to get. Men are hunters, and live for the chase. The way Neil was sniffing through evidence and barking at every suspect... he was most definitely a hunter. "The pleasure of your company, but I see that it's impossible for you to be off the clock." she moved away from the desk, her heels tapping agaisnt the solid wood floor as she made her way towards the door. She glanced back at him, her hair flipping to cover the other eye. "When you finally relax, come find me, and maybe the offer will still stand..." her steps continued, laboriously slow, like a gazelle grazing, taunting the lion who laid in wait... or was it the lioness, pacing before she pounced on her victim? One thin, tanned hand reached for the door handle. She felt her fingers slid against the cold metal... he had to take the bait...

And he did. Rough digits wrapped around her wrist. "Wait a sec, Hiccup Heiress," he began. "Why this sudden interest in a lowly prosecuting attorney like me?"

Angel smirked. "Who says the interest is sudden, not Yet-a-Fourth-Understudy boyfriend?" she retorted.

"Don't play coy." _Oh, good one!_ she had to congratulate him, but not aloud. "You're so good at it that now only Gant and I can resist. You could have Jake and Bruce in puddles on the floor in a minute," he replied.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, sheriff..." she purred, then added, in a lower decible, "but you should see what Lana can have Jake in," Or out of, as the case might be, "in less than that. And she doesn't even have to speak," she finished with a girlish giggle.

"There's a major diffference between you and Lana. Lana follows a strict code of ethics... and you have no morals at all," he retorted.

"It's a good thing that we're detectives and not doctors, now isn't it?" She tried to wrestle her wrist away, realizing what a horrible idea it had been to try and tango with the Lord of the Two-Step. And did she detect a hint of jealousy between the Marshall brothers over one kind and talented executive detective, or was that simply a woman's tendancy to turn everything into a daytime drama?

"Answer my question, Angel..." he growled. "I'm not letting you go until you do."

"Maybe I've always been interested in you. Maybe you've just been too busy to notice," she replied. The Cough-Up Queen didn't back down... but now she'd forgotten if she was conducting an experiment, or acting like a silly school girl, trying to get the quarterback's attention.

Well, it seemed she had his attention. All of it. His deep chocolate eyes boring into her sapphire blues. He was suddenly so close... when had she turned around?

"Angel, you're intelligent. I don't want to be a boy-toy..." His head dipped, and Angel backed up against the door.

"Neil..." she warned him, her voice was unsteady.

"I want to be the only..." his lips brushed against hers, gently at first, then devouring. Her eyes drifted shut, her finger tripping the lock on the door, and she gave in, for once loving for no personal gain, just to enjoy it... and enjoy him.

After all, for whatever reason, what happens in the Prosecutor's Office, stays in the Prosecutor's Office.

--

But there were some who followed that rule too closely.

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Fin.

Tada. Neil/Angel. Fear it, for it is crack, and crack is good. Cook some in your kitchen (I, in fact, write some really good stuff for my favorite crack pairings while sitting on my couch, which is quite close to my kitchen).

And, yes, the Prosecutor's Office is like Vegas. Sex, drugs, rock n' roll, blackmail, deciet, drama... Oooh, how I do love 'Rise From The Ashes'!

Leave me a review please, and mayhap I shall write more PW fanfiction (starring crack pairings, of course.)


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